


A Cleaning Day

by ReaderRose



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Angst, Character Study, Dialogue Heavy, Ficlet, Gen, House Cleaning, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Obsessive Behavior, Vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 04:04:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13403091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReaderRose/pseuds/ReaderRose
Summary: Sans discovers Papyrus is in a cleaning mood, but, like, the bad kind. Not the usual kind.





	A Cleaning Day

**Author's Note:**

> I was making eggs, minding my own business, and suddenly this entire scene played out in my skull. So I wrote it down. We'll pretend like this is for the second week of January and get something else up later for week 3.

Sans came home to find the entire living room devoid of all furniture. And paint. And carpet. And dirt, dust, and grime. 

The sound of scrubbing echoed.

The apparent culprit was bent down on all fours, scrubbing at what would have been the foot of the couch if it wasn’t currently gone.  Papyrus. 

 

Sans took a shortcut to his room and walked out onto the balcony.

“heya.”

Papyrus jumped slightly, but calmed when he saw Sans. his hand shook as he hesitated, but he gave a weak wave before turning back to his work. “YOU’RE EARLY.”

“not really.”

“YOU’RE BACK 6 MINUTES EARLIER THAN YOUR AVERAGE. IT’S AN OUTLIER. YOU’RE EARLY.”

Oh. Sans already figured it was one of those days, but that was the confirmation. “so where’s all our stuff?”

“UNDER THE SINK”

“okay.” Sans assumed as much. Papyrus wasn’t giving him anything though, so it was time for the nuclear option. “did something happen?”

“NO.”

Sans nodded and plopped down on the edge of the balcony. “...did something… not happen?”

“THE SAME THINGS THAT HAPPEN OR NOT HAPPEN THAT ALWAYS HAPPEN HAPPENED, SO YES, ON A TECHNICALITY.”

“and the thing that never happens not happening is what happened?”

He faltered. “YES?”

Okay that was fast. Sans thought he was going to have to keep asking this same question another dozen says before Papyrus slipped. Easy. Perfect. “are you okay?”

“YEP.”

Maybe not that easy. “you sure?”

Papyrus stopped cleaning, and looked up, this time with a bright, cheerful grin plastered on his face. It was scary how good he was getting that that. And worrying. But he didn’t quite have it down yet. “I’M FINE SANS. JUST LIKE ALWAYS!!” 

He was really nailing the tone, too. God… that wasn’t good at all. If he wasn’t obviously annoyed by the question and letting it clip at his words, he would have been perfect. Sans was good but man, Papyrus did not stop until he was the master of his crafts. Always an overachiever.

“so… tell me about what keeps not happening.”

Papyrus’s grin flinched, but he looked back down at his work before Sans could see it twist into what he assumed was approximating rage. He could hear Papyrus’s teeth clamp and grind. “WELL, YOU NOT CLEANING KEEPS HAPPENING, FOR STARTERS!”

A potshot. Cute, but not quite powerful enough. Sans knew well enough to know what this wasn’t. He just didn’t know what this was. 

“nuh uh. I didn’t not not clean for the last 15ish months but you already cleaned for me not cleaning and we agreed that… jeez, can we just talk normally?”

“LIKE NORMAL MONSTERS? WHO HAVE NORMAL CONVERSATIONS ABOUT NORMAL FEELINGS?”

“yeah.”

Papyrus paused, then resumed cleaning. “NO.”

“okay.” Sans was running out of options. Being direct had been the second nuclear option, and no effect. If anything, Papyrus’s grip on his brush was getting tighter. “will you tell me about the thing that keeps not happening, besides me not cleaning which is normal?”

“IT’S BEEN 18 MONTHS.”

“okay.”

“SINCE YOU DIDN’T CLEAN.”

“ah.”

“18 MONTHS AND 2 DAYS.”

“i missed the year and a half anniversary?”

“YOU ARE TWO DAYS LATE!”

Sans considered letting this go, before realizing he was too curious, and the house was too empty, and he hated talking as much as the next person but at this rate the roof was going to be re-shingled by morning. “you really aren’t going to tell me?”

“NO.”

“okay.”

“OKAY.”

“do you need help?”

“THAT’S THE LAST THING I WANT TODAY, SANS.”

He figured. “...what do you want?”

“SANS I ALREADY SAID I…” Papyrus huffed, giving the brush an extra scrub. The poor thing was pretty much dead at this point. Only a few bristles hanging on, still. He always used that one on days like this. Sans wasn’t sure what crimes it had committed to deserve such immense justice. Papyrus glanced up for the first time since Sans entered, then back down at his ‘work,’ giving the tooth brush a restful moment of gentle scrubbing. Poor thing deserved it. What a little trooper. “I… I WANT A GLASS OF MILK. WHITE. WHOLE. THE GLASS FROM THE TOP SHELF. PRISTINE. THE ONE YOU CAN SEE THOUGH. FILLED TO ONE FOURTEENTH OF THE WAY FROM THE TOP. ONE ICE CUBE. …A-AND A SILLY STRAW. I GUESS.”

“today’s a silly straw kind of day?”

“I’M GOING TO MAKE IT ONE.”

“do you want me to get the milk?”

“NO. THANK YOU. I’M GOING TO FINISH CLEANING FIRST.”

“gonna recarpet the room before, or after?”

“UM… I SUPPOSE AFTER. I’M ACTUALLY ALMOST DONE? I COULD RECARPET FIRST.”

“you could,”

“BUT I HAVE TO REPAINT, TOO.”

“i guess.” The walls were looking bare. But they were also white. Seemed like the kind of thing Pap might like on a day like this. Sans didn't care. Paint color wasn't real important to him. Neither was paint, honestly. The bare plaster looked fine to him.

Papyrus looked up, not at sans, but at a wall, glaring at it as if it had committed a terrible offense against him. “I’M GOING TO PAINT IT A DIFFERENT COLOR, SANS.”

“are you?”

“I AM.”

“red?”

“I WASN’T PLANNING ON RED.”

“it’s your favorite color.”

“NO IT ISN’T.”

“okay.”

“RED DOESN’T MATCH THE CARPET.”

“so?”

“IT WON’T LOOK NICE.”

“you can repaint it again in a week or something. if nothing keeps happening.”

“IT’S NOT NOTHING THAT’S HAPPENING.”

“okay.”

“IT’S… IT’S A LOT OF SOMETHING BUT NEVER NOTHING, BUT ALSO NOT THE SOMETHING I WANT TO BE HAPPENING. IT’S VERY COMPLICATED.”

“i bet.”

“YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND.”

“i could.”

“SANS. I STAY OUT THE BASEMENT, SO YOU CAN STAY OUT OF MY CLEANING. OKAY?”

Owch. “i just hate not being able to help.” As much as he hated cleaning, or work, that much was true. And it wasn’t really about cleaning, or working, anyway. It was about helping.

“ME TOO. THAT’S WHY I’M CLEANING.”

“Oh.”

Sans sat there for a moment, not watching, but not not watching. The brothering stuff was always pretty complicated like that.

“do you want me to leave?”

“...NO. I… I LIKE THE COMPANY. EVEN IF I’M NOT BEING A VERY GOOD HOST RIGHT NOW.”

“you don’t have to be a host. i’m your brother. you don’t even have to be nice. call me names or something. we’ll still be family”

“...I KNOW. THANK YOU, SANS.”

“sure.” 

As glad as he was that Papyrus seemed to be calming down… he kind of wished he had called him something. He was kind of curious. Aside from ‘lazy,’ it had been years since they called each other names and Sans was immature enough to miss it kind of terribly. Plus, Papyrus was all kinds of mature and cultured and cool now. The names would be different, and it was such a novelty. But today wasn’t the day to press that.

Papyrus eased up on the brush, and his skull moved like he was about to look up, but he didn’t. “CAN YOU HELP ME REPAINT?”

“‘course.”

“I’M GOING TO PAINT IT RED.”

“with the blue carpets?”

“WITH THE BLUE CARPETS.”

“dangerous.”

“DIABOLICAL!”

“my bro, outlaw and rebel, breaking all the rules.”

“PANTONE WILL GAZE UPON MY WORKS AND WEEP.”

 

Papyrus finished cleaning, and had his glass of milk, with the silly straw. And then they painted the living room red with spite for color theory.

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, I have a few different ideas of what he's upset about, but it didn't really matter for the fic itself, since Papyrus not actually explaining worked better.


End file.
